


your hands around my neck

by Anonymous



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Choking, Coming In Pants, Dom Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Kink Discovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:02:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17554775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It's a gradual discovery. Every hint and comment, reaction and expression. All lead Ten to a journey of questioning and, ultimately, figuring out what's going through his boyfriend’s mind.





	your hands around my neck

It's a gradual discovery.

Every hint and comment, reaction and expression. All lead Ten to a journey of questioning and, ultimately, figuring out what's going through his boyfriend’s mind.

If a start can be pinpointed, it’d be the first time Ten raised his voice in bed. Or, took charge.

A casual make-out session with a sprinkle of grinding where Ten had gotten fed up—frustrated, hasty movements and droplets of sweat dribbling down his back, until he sat up and looked Johnny dead in the eye. Goosebumps instantly arising, underneath Ten’s body, he gulped.

“Aren't you gonna do anything?” Pushing back against him, Ten said firmly. Not shyly, not softly. A hoarse voice and nearly mocking tone, that seemingly reduced Johnny to shambles.

“I—"

Moments like these, stuttered words, lumps stuck in his throat and glowing cheeks, progressively form an idea in the back of Ten’s head. An idea, or a thought, that sticks, and so Ten begins to play with it. No surprise, Johnny lets up a lot sooner than expected.

“Baby,” whispered against his ear, as Ten leans down to kiss under it.

“You—you've been calling me,  _ ah _ , baby a lot lately,” it's lame, the way Johnny rather accuses him, partly because he's stumbling over his words and failing at such a simple task as it is  _ speaking _ , so Ten can only smirk and send a smug look his way.

“You like it?”

Johnny's sharp intake of breath is a dead giveaway. 

“Noted.”

As their lips find each other again, and Ten squeezes his legs around Johnny's waist just a bit tighter, Johnny's impatience starts getting to him. So Ten puts him in his place, but just slightly. Grabbing his shoulders and pressing his body further into the bed, until Johnny looks up at him with bottomless eyes and desire dripping from them, like molten lava, trailing down to his burning cheeks. It's a sight to be framed.

“A bit  _ greedy _ , aren't we?”

There's a groan that Ten can tell Johnny fights to swallow, keep down, but it comes out once Ten's fingers dance on his stomach and shifts his body on top of his crotch at a leisurely and torturous pace, prompting Johnny to get more fidgety. He cants his hips up, and this time Ten is the one that lets out a sound of his own. It's not pleasurable friction of any kind, per se, but the sensation of dragging it out—watching as Johnny loses control under him, has him sensitive to any touch.

Kissing should be overrated by now, or at least boring, but Johnny's lips are a different situation. Johnny's lips are addictive, fierce and fleshy yet delicate, warm pecks on a cold morning, crimson smiles on late-night walks. Ten doesn't get tired, no matter how plump and numb his own lips go, every time they kiss feels like a first time. Extremely clichéd, he knows, but it helps keep him going.

So he allows the moment to turn a bit mushy.

“I love you,” Ten murmurs. A heavy weight settles on his chest. It's the purest form of love.

“I love you too.”

Though, after a chaste kiss, Johnny decides to grab onto the back of his neck to push him down, until their chests are inches apart, and Ten can  _ feel  _ every beat of his heart. It's helpful, in a way, when Ten nibbles on his bottom lip, holds his jaw with one hand, and places the other where his shoulder meets his neck—and Johnny's heart definitely misses more than one beat. A sensitive spot, it seems.

Ten plays with it. Johnny just falls pliant.

“There's no lube,” raspy voice and all, Ten states against his ear. However, he doesn't stop grinding against Johnny, who appears to be enjoying it more than it's acceptable for a twenty-three-year-old man. 

(Johnny would always say their relationship is just two horny teenagers—Ten partially agrees). 

“Look—in the bottom drawer,” Johnny motions at the bedside table, keen on getting his dick  _ something _ apart from feeble friction that only leaves him on edge.

Ten,  _ dumb _ and foolish as he is, leans forward as to reach for the drawer pull, and uses his grip on Johnny's neck for leverage. A bad idea. Terrible, awful. Johnny whines seemingly in pain but doesn't cough much (Ten is quick to pull back and allow him to breathe properly).

“I’m sorry, fuck, sorry,” Ten chants, “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Johnny clears his throat. “I'm—fine.”

With his dick having almost completely gone limp, Ten stares at Johnny's flushed face and waits for any signal. Though, the hints have been there all along. All this time. His gaze shifts down towards Johnny's crotch and notices how he's still, well,  _ throbbing _ under his sweatpants. The red dust on his cheeks, and his clammy palms resting on Ten’s exposed thighs. Then, he glances up, fixes his eyes on him, and stares until Johnny's lips are red and slick from the amount of times he has nervously (anxiously—impatiently, or for pleasure overall) bitten them, until the counter for how many times he has gulped goes up to five. 

“Is there something you wanna tell me,  _ hyung _ ?” 

Johnny just covers his face.

“Shut up.”

Ten begins to kiss his neck, starting from the dip of his collarbones up to the sharpness of his jaw. Johnny lets out small, almost inaudible noises, but Ten makes sure to catch them. And to make them louder, too. 

Although he's half-hard, pushing everything including himself and his own needs aside, Ten goes back to rubbing his ass against Johnny's bulge. Like teenagers, it is. Johnny doesn't look too opposed to the idea, as he throws his head back and then moans, once and for all, when Ten’s teeth sink into his skin. It's rewarding watching him crumble, turning into putty under Ten’s hands, taken to his most primitive state. So he continues at a normal pace, relishing in every sound and tremble that goes down his spine.

His hands, somehow, find their way to Johnny’s neck again, caressing each side. Underneath him, Johnny shakes slightly, and that's what makes Ten's own dick visibly  _ twitch _ . Cupping his face, he leans down until their breaths mingle.

“Tell me if this is okay,” Ten mumbles, “okay?”

Johnny can only nod, really, as the weight of Ten’s body leaning back presses against him, and the urge to rip all of his clothes and just whip his dick out gets stronger by the minute. 

Soft, warm skin, screaming for Ten fingers to wrap around it, so he does—slowly. Ten allows his hands to explore a bit, tickle him, test the waters. Learn where Johnny is most sensitive. But Ten has his own limits, too, and there's only much he can wait. So he adds pressures where his fingers are placed around Johnny's throat, and watches as Johnny's eyes roll back and his hips jerk. It's a breathtaking view. In response, Ten rolls his own hips, giving Johnny what he's desperately looking for.

And Ten revels in it. 

Every sound, every expression, every encouraging word uttered. It's not only a discovery for Johnny, but for him, too.

Ten releases his grip before a minute passes, no matter how entrancing it can get, Johnny's health is of main importance. Though, he doesn't look so happy as his body quivers and his eyes scream for more.

“I liked that,” catching his breath, Johnny announces, “I  _ like _ that.”

“Well, I noticed,” Ten chuckles, “you have  a very sensitive neck,  _ baby _ .” 

Johnny grips Ten’s thighs, then, motioning for him to move again, or do something. So Ten does, clearly. He's no one to deprive Johnny of what he desires. Shifting a bit on top of him, attempting to find the perfect position, Ten allows Johnny to guide his movements with his hands on his waist, and Ten leans forward with one hand on each side of his head.

Hair spread on the pillow like a halo, Johnny appears almost angelic. It's Ten’s hand around his neck moments later that ruins the image. Or, creates a contrast, a piece of  _ art _ . 

(He wishes he had his camera with him, wishes he could capture what Johnny isn't seeing). 

A low but rapidly growing fire begins burning at the pit of his stomach, and as pleasure oozes through him like wildfire, it finally dawns on him how much pleasure he's getting from this, too. How tingles race across his body, how much he gets off from watching Johnny moaning under him simply by  _ grinding _ . Humping each other. And a hand around his throat. 

“You're,” Johnny utters, so Ten quickly eases some pressure, “the best thing in my life.”

“Please don't get cheesy while I’m  _ choking _ you,” a fond smile takes over his entire asserting demeanor, but Ten doesn't care about appearances anymore. “ _ Fuck _ .”

Johnny holds onto his hips like his life depends on it (and it seems like he's on edge already, given by how hurried and erratic his movements have gotten), encouraging Ten to get his hands back on him. This time, Ten joins their lips first, traces his tongue along Johnny’s bottom lip as swallows every sound that comes out as Ten matches his pace. Once he's satisfied, leaving Johnny’s mouth with a very dark color, Ten’s hands travel up his body, caressing every divot and mark until they reach his neck.

In contrast, he's not tentative about the way his hand applies pressure around his throat. He's not soft, nor shy, he locks gazes and lets himself be guided by the fire taking over him.

It seems to affect the both of them the same way, rubbing against each other being enough to reach the edge, and then it's as simple as Johnny's eyes disappearing into his skull as he lets out a choked-up groan, and the visual of Ten’s hand remaining on his neck, to make Ten come, too. Both in their pants. Both ridiculously clothed. 

“Fuck,” Johnny coughs, licks his lips, and looks at Ten with twinkling eyes, “we are teenagers.”

“A bit more kinkier, don't you think?”

Johnny giggles, and his cheeks are glowing in the dim lighting of the room, a dazzling red that fills Ten with different types of love. 

“Sorry if it was weird, I—” 

Not allowing him to finish, well aware of his intentions, (apologizing, feeling embarrassed, everything Ten doesn't want his boyfriend to feel), Ten cuts him off with a chaste kiss. 

“It's not  _ weird _ ,” Ten reassures him, “it's actually very normal nowadays. And I'm very happy that I discovered it, even if it was an accident, because you'd have  _ never  _ told me otherwise.” 

“Yeah, well, I didn't  _ know _ ,” as Johnny moves, Ten feels his underwear  _ sticky _ , and the urge to shower overtakes him.

“We can talk about it, y’know, more in-depth,” Ten proposes, “preferably in the shower.”

Johnny looks down at the wet spot on his sweatpants. “Yeah, let’s shower.”   
  



End file.
